


Under His Hands

by sistersophie



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 04:30:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10914378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sistersophie/pseuds/sistersophie
Summary: It's finally springtime, and Oliver is ready to give his man a ride.





	Under His Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the "Picture Paints a Thousand Words" challenge on TGS/CHM slash.

I rest in my shed for much of the year; British winters are not particularly kind to an old Opel Kadett. 

Even though I’m hidden away and covered up, I can still sense that the days are finally beginning to lengthen. Soon he will come for me.

The sun rises and falls, and the rains come and go. I wait, with patience and anticipation, as the time passes.

I believe it is a Saturday morning. I am dozing in my corner, dreaming once more of our magnificent adventure across Botswana, when the door finally opens, and a breeze enters my shed and ruffles my blanket.

Quick footsteps approach me, and I can hear Richard’s excited breathing.

“Hello, Oliver. How have you been?”

He pulls the blanket back and rubs a hand over my bonnet. I can see him now, and he’s as beautiful as ever; small in stature for a human male, but with the heart of a lion, and a smile that warms me down to my carburetor. There are more wrinkles around his eyes than there were when we first met, but they only add character to his face. 

I love him so much, and I can’t wait to hold him inside me.

“You look good, old boy,” he murmurs as he finishes uncovering me. It is so good to feel fresh air on my body once more, but it’s not enough. I want to breathe it in again. And I want to drink petrol. I want Richard to press my pedals, turn my wheels, and let me take him places. 

It’s what the Great Opel created me for.

Richard walks around me, looking at my doors, my tyres, my boot, my windows. He touches me here and there, wiping away a stray speck of dirt, smoothing his fingers over the badge that I wear so proudly. 

“Let’s have a look underneath,” he says at last, unlatching and raising my bonnet. As always, I feel a little self-conscious about my inner workings; they aren’t nearly as intricate or powerful as those of Richard’s Land Rover or his Porsche or his Mustang. 

I am a tiny 1960s saloon, nothing more. Most of my brothers are long gone – off to be taken apart in junkyards or rust away in fields. I was so lucky that Richard found me when he did.

Don’t let anyone fool you; cars love to be appreciated.

Richard fingers my wires and checks my connections. I know there is still plenty of power in my battery, but I wait patiently as he goes over every inch of my electrical system.

“I have new spark plugs here for you, just in case,” he says, but I know that I don’t really need those, either. I’m ready to roll, except for the two most important things: fuel, and Richard.

But I know he likes to be thorough about everything, so I try to relax as he checks my oil, my radiator fluid, and everything else.

One of Richard’s many dogs appears, nuzzling up against him for attention. 

“I can’t pet you now, TeeGee; my hands are all greasy,” he complains, and I have a sudden dread that he might be planning to take the creature with us on our drive. I will do what he wants, of course – but I was hoping that this first trip of the year would be ours alone. 

“Don’t worry, Ollie, she’s not coming with us.”

I feel a little thrill in my framework. You might think the whole idea of a psychic bond between a car and a human is the craziest thing you’ve ever heard – but I’m here to tell you that, for Richard and me, it’s real, and it’s never failed us. Even when I was starting to sink into the river back in Africa, I felt Richard’s fear, and his deep love for me, and I trusted that he would see me through this great crisis. He did just that, and here we are now.

He shuts my bonnet, very gently, and now there’s only one task left for him to do.

“Ready for a drink?”

He shows me the big red can, and I sigh with pleasure as he opens my cap and inserts the tube. Fresh, delicious petrol flows into my tank. The dog watches for a few more seconds, then gives up and leaves the shed. 

Richard doesn’t even notice; his eyes are only for me.

He takes the empty can away and closes my cap. He wipes his hands clean with a towel. Then he goes to the shed door and opens it the rest of the way. Gravel stretches out before me, and I can see green grass and spring wildflowers. It is a glorious morning for a drive.

I hear the welcome rattle of keys in Richard’s hand as he opens my door. He settles his buttocks on my seat, and I shiver again with the sheer pleasure of touching him once more.

He runs his hands over my dashboard and steering wheel. Great Opel, he is such a tease, and I can’t take much more of this.

I need your key inside me, Richard. Please. Oh, please….

“All right, then.” And there it is, warmed from his hand, going in, and I am right on the edge….

He turns his wrist, and I respond – a little cough at first, but then petrol rushes through my lines, and everything comes together, and I roar into life once more, before finally settling down into a satisfied purr.

“You pretty, wonderful thing,” he whispers, and I am so, so ready to go. His hand goes to the gear knob, his foot to the pedal, and in one beautifully coordinated moment, we move as one.

He smiles into my rear-view mirror as my tyres begin to roll, and we are on our way – to where, only Richard knows for sure. 

But it is springtime, and we are together again, and all is right in our world.


End file.
